


you (can't) get enough

by TechnicalTragedy



Series: (i won't) take the easy road [1]
Category: Borderlands
Genre: AI Jack, Atlas CEO Rhys, Canon Dialogue, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Rhys, During Canon, Kinda, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, actual canon violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5694130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalTragedy/pseuds/TechnicalTragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days, he just isn't sure what 'okay' is anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you (can't) get enough

**Author's Note:**

> prequel to '(it's not) too late'
> 
> the scene where rhys rips out his cybernetics is in here but i wouldn't say it's like, TOO graphic? idk be the judge of that yourself if you don't like mentions of blood and stuff i recommend not reading that part i guess.

Rhys wonders, sometimes, if all the things he's ever done have been mistakes. The Eridium mine deal, the cybernetics, the fake Vault Key, Nakayama's ID drive; thinking back, everything seems like a series of neverending bad decisions. If he was inclined to believe in fate, he'd say he was born under a bad sign, probably. Whatever the reason may be, Rhys has a penchant for making awful decisions. Now is no exception.

 

(Actually, Rhys thinks Vasquez came the closest to figuring out how the universe works, not that he'd ever admit it. Men make their own destiny, and maybe Rhys just doesn't know what the hell to do with his.)

 

Sunk deep into the comfort of Jack's throne, Rhys can practically feel the thrumming of power in his bones, the soul-deep satisfaction of bring the one in charge, finally. Despite this, and the chemicals making him feel like everything is awesome, Rhys knows, somewhere in the back of his head, that he just fucked up beyond repair. Jack is in- no, Jack _is_ Helios.

 

“It's all yours, Rhysie. Everything,” Jack is saying. “Helios, Hyperion, _Pandora_ , and all the bloodsuckers that live in your domain.”

 

Rhys smiles, leaning back in Jack's-  _his_ chair, trying to shake off the feeling of wrong. “I can finally get back at everyone who fucked me over. I could blow up a fucking planet right now, and nobody would stop me.”

 

“That's the spirit, baby!” Jack says. “You can do whatever you want now. You're the king.”

 

Spinning in the chair and looking out the huge windows into space, Rhys thinks maybe, yeah, maybe he  _is_ a king. “What will I do first?” Rhys asks, mostly to himself.

 

Jack appears in the windows, grinning from ear to ear. “The President's first action is the one everybody remembers, Rhysie.”

 

Rhys stares down at Pandora, a thought floating around in his head. “Let's moonshot some bandit scum,” he says.

 

“Prosperity Junction it is!” Jack decides in record time. Rhys watches as the moonshots rocket towards Pandora's surface, and doesn't even feel remorse.

 

(Wrong wrong wrong Rhys feels regret sluice over his skin, settle into the pit of his stomach, clog his throat. Everything fucked about the situation hits him but he doesn't know it yet, Rhys doesn't realize that Jack isn't the hero, that Rhys isn't the hero, that they're both the villain in the story of everyone else.)

 

Jack shows Rhys the endoskeleton. Rhys flips shit and runs.

 

(Rhys almost says yes.)

 

Yvette begs Rhys to take her with him, literally begs him. “Please, Rhys. I know I messed up, but I'm still your friend. I thought you were  _dead_ . Please don't leave me here to die.” Despite everything, Rhys doesn't.

 

 

_01110100 01110010 01100001 01101110 01110011 01101001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110_

 

 

Rhys doesn't know how long he's been out, but when he breaks open his escape pod, he sees that it hasn't been long enough for the fires to be put out. Helios surrounds him, and Rhys makes his way through it filled with despair, carefully _not_ thinking about the countless deaths on his hands, now.

 

Eventually, he finds himself back in Jack's office. It isn't the glorious seat of power anymore, just a wreck still pulsing with the heartbeat of its dead king.

 

“I'm proud of you, kid. You didn't stop at anything to kill me.” Jack says, distorted through the smashed speakers.

 

“Oh, is this the part where you give me this 'we're not so different' speech, isn't it?” Rhys says.

 

Jack laughs. “Oh hell no. You're _way_ better at killing people than I am. I mean, how many people do you think were on Helios? How many of your coworkers did you just eject into space?”

 

Rhys sets his mouth in a grim line. “I did what I had to do to rid the world of you. And I sure as hell would do it again.”

 

“Awesome,” Jack says. “Cooldogs. I'll spare you the amount of times I've told myself the exact same thing. Whatever gets you to sleep at night, huh? Everybody thinks they're the hero of their own story. You know, I shoulda seen this coming. Ever since I came to this nacho-flavored shithole of a planet I've been betrayed by everybody I gave a rat's ass about. My boss. My girlfriend. Hell, even my goddamn daughter. Maybe I deserved it. 'The road to hell is paved with good intentions,' right? And the ones you love litter the roadside. Oh, it's just all so... exhausting.

 

“Take a good look around you, Rhys. This is what success looks like. You'll see, after a while you start to measure it by the pile of destruction around you. You've gotta break it down to build it back up. This was your first step in that. It's the only way. You'll see.” Jack laughs humorlessly, almost sounding like he regrets it. “There's so much to break down before you can build again.”

 

Rhys says nothing, turning away from Jack. He hates this, hates the way Jack is talking like he's a victim, like he's just another pawn and isn't the fucking king. Rhys could almost believe it, too, if he didn't know-

 

The port at his temple burns suddenly, and Rhys remembers the arm that loaded Jack into Helios as he rips it out and his head is filled with the sound of Jack's laughter. Jack stands in front of him, grinning like he's a feral animal.

 

Jack raises his arm, and Rhys' mechanical arm comes to his own throat, pressing off his air supply. “You think you can take  _me_ out, you little shit?” Jack asks as Rhys struggles to regain control of himself. Jack advances on him, making Rhys walk backwards, desperately trying to come up with anything that could help him. “You ready to do this, Rhys? Are you  _ready_ ?”

 

“You won't win this!” Rhys forces out, still stumbling back. He won't let Jack win, _can't_ let Jack win.

 

Jack shakes his head, his smile growing wider. “No, it'll be more of a tie, but it'll be so worth it to watch you die.”

 

Finally, Rhys sees something sharp in the corner of his eye. A beam, maybe, something that broke and left a jagged half behind. He steels himself, then pushes against it hard enough so that it goes through his mechanical arm, using the leverage gained to pry his fingers from his own throat. His hand still grabs at him, and Rhys feels sick as he figures out what he'll have to do.

 

“This is leadership! This is being a goddamn hero! Everything you're not,” Jack is saying, close enough to Rhys that if he wasn't a hologram, Rhy would be able to feel his breath.

 

Rhys pulls off the protective casing over where metal meets flesh, then reaches under and tugs at the wires, disconnecting them and immediately seeing his fingers get more uncoordinated. He leans away from his arm, using his weight to let him pull the arm out. He bites down on his lip to contain a scream, but a groan slips around his teeth. He jerks once, experiencing the sickening feeling of things tearing out of his body, jerks again, and sprawls onto the floor as he finally pulls free of his arm. Blood gushes from the socket and Rhys is lightheaded, trying to catch his breath.

 

Jack stands a few feet away, flexing his hand. “Congratulations, kiddo,” he says. “You get to live another day. But what about tomorrow?” He flickers out of view and reappears over Rhys, on his hands and knees above him. “Or the next day?”

 

Rhys gropes around on the floor and picks up a piece of glass, slashing at Jack and going right through him. Ah. Of course. Holograms.

 

Jack chuckles and gets up. “I'm not going anywhere as long as you've got those cybernetics in you. I'll be sitting here waiting for my chance to take you out.” Rhys reaches up and touches the port, swallowing. “We're past playing games, Rhys.”

 

Rhys closes his eyes and brings the glass to his temple. It cuts into the sensitive skin easier than he'd thought it would, and he carves a circle around the port, just enough so that he'll be able to get his fingernails in. Jack's form flickers as Rhys starts to slide it out, and Jack spins around, eyes wide.

 

“Waitwaitwaitwait, w-w-what are you doing? Rhys, what the hell are you doing?” Jack takes a step toward him, then another, hand outstretched.

 

Rhys gives another pull and the port disconnects, making Jack short out again. Rhys stares at him, panting. He squeezes his eyes closed, then opens them wide.

 

“No please, please! Please don't do this!” Jack pleads, closing the distance between them even more.

 

Rhys puts the glass to his eye and digs it in under the implant, prying it loose.

 

“Rhys, no! You don't know what it's like.”

 

He drops the glass and reaches up to his eye, feeling the implant hanging from the empty hole.

 

Jack drops to the ground, kneeling. “Please! Hey.  _Hey!_ I'm on my knees here. Please don't send me back there! It's not like they say!”

 

Rhys pulls, and section by section, the ECHOeye starts coming free. It already hurts, and Rhys dreads thinking about how it will feel when he has to yank it out of his head completely.

 

“There's nothing,” Jack says, soft. “There's absolutely nothing there. Don't do this.”

 

Finally, all Rhys needs is one final tug to lose the implant. He looks at Jack with his good eye, at the desperation and resignation dueling on his features. Rhys guesses that he'll never know what was under that mask. “I'm sorry, Jack,” Rhys says, and he means it. Jack might have ruined his life, but Rhys had trusted him, had looked up to him. “It's over.”

 

Rhys pulls, and the implant pops out. Jack is gone, and Rhys is finally,  _finally_ , alone.

 

He's out before he hits the ground.

 

 

_01110100 01110010 01100001 01101110 01110011 01101001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110_

 

 

His new cybernetics feel like a betrayal, but Rhys lives.

 

They bring Gortys back, kill the Traveler, and open the Vault. Rhys is the President of Atlas, rich beyond his wildest dreams, and doesn't have to deal with Jack's assholery as the cherry on top.

 

(Rhys doesn't trust himself. He makes his new arm easier to remove, wires his port it so that he's asked to authorize transferals when something is plugged into it, makes himself as close to unhackable as possible. Sometimes he thinks he hears Jack, or sees him. Vaughn lifts his hand for a fistbump and Rhys flinches. Fiona tells him his new haircut makes him look like Jack and Rhys almost has a panic attack in his office because he _sees it_. He takes scissors to his own hair. His friends learn not to mention Handsome Jack, and Rhys is so, so grateful that he doesn't have to hear Jack's name or see his face. He gets better over time, but Rhys doesn't think he'll ever fully heal.)

 

The old implant stays on his person at all times. He isn't sure if it's hope or dread that makes him keep it, and if he's honest, Rhys doesn't want to know. He forces his life into a routine.

 

(Don't think about Jack, don't think about the blood on your hands, don't think about how Yvette looks at you like you're falling apart and Vaughn spends almost all of his time with his merry band of Hyperion bandits, don't think about anything other than Atlas, don't look at yourself in the mirror for too long, don't think about the ECHOeye you have in your pocket, don't think-)

 

Rhys will be okay.

 

(Some days, he just isn't quite sure what 'okay' is, anymore.)

 

He ignores that his desk chair had been salvaged from the wreck of Helios, and even manages to ignore that its touch-activated dopamine injectors are the only source of happiness he has anymore.

 

Rhys _will_ be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> also this is gonna be a five part series with this as the first and '(it's not) too late' as the second part so yay fun times


End file.
